"Could it be done this way?" said P. Q. "While you and Gallant are in the basement with Murphy and a shorthand man, Benton can fix himself outside the door so that when Gibson and Cummings come out he can shoot a flashlight. He can have an automobile close and make a quick getaway by jumping into it. When you have enough of the conversation between Gibson and the 'Gink' you can come outside, tip Benton to be ready and wait for him in the machine. They can't chase you. By the time they get a machine you should be a mile away from them." "All right, P. Q., we'll try it that way," agreed Brennan. "Benton had better be with us tonight. Whose automobile shall we use and who'll drive it? It must be someone we can trust." "You can arrange that to suit yourselves," said P. Q. "Don't be afraid to spend money," said the publisher. "It's a big thing you're going to do, boys, and I won't forget you, whether you succeed or not." That afternoon they obtained the dictograph. It was loaned them by Hubert Kittle, aviator, former police officer, one-time contender for the heavyweight pugilistic championship of the navy, dare-devil and adventurer. Later in the day Ben Smith, official court reporter and one of the fastest and most accurate shorthand men in the country, agreed to share in their adventure. "I'd trust Ben with my life," Brennan remarked to John later. "If there ever was a man who knew how to keep his mouth shut, it's Ben. Whenever the district attorney's office or the police or the sheriff have something really big, something that must be kept absolutely secret, they call him in and he never has failed them." "What about the machine and the driver?" John asked. "That's what has me stumped," Brennan admitted. "Most all of the taxi drivers are lined up with the 'Gink' in some way or another. We must have someone we can not only rely upon, but who can drive. Believe me, Gallant, we can't afford to take any chances." From Ben Smith's office in the Hall of Justice building they went to the city hall to break the news of their discovery of the meeting place of Gibson and Cummings to the mayor. While Brennan was telling the story and describing how they had planned to obtain a written report of the conversation between Gibson and the "Gink" by use of the dictograph, the mayor sat perched on the edge of his chair, his eyes gleaming with pent-up excitement. When Brennan had finished he bounced up and circled the desk with quick strides to shake them both by the hand. "You've done it, boys, you've done it," he said. Then he turned his face from them and drew a handkerchief from his pocket. "Don't mind me," he said, dabbing with the handkerchief at his eyes. "I'm an old fool. But I've been under a terrible strain, boys, these last few weeks and what you told me was almost too good to be true." He turned to face them as quickly as he had turned away, and he was smiling.